Parting Request
by T.H.W
Summary: Here's a story to hold you guys over. I completely forgot about it. This does not involve Bright Eyes at all. This is about Jack and Kid Blink. In this one Jack does leave, with disasterous results.


"Parting Request", written by Maia Sharp and Jenifer Freebairn-Smith.  
This song is owned and copywrited by Ark 21 Records.   
  
  
  
"Parting Request"  
  
  
  
  
The year was 1908, nine years after the Newsboy's strike of 1899. Many of the Newsies still remained in the paper business, some taking jobs at the paper distribution booth, others going so far as to work in the paper factory itself. All were mostly the same as they had been in their youth, but were taller and more street-wise than ever. Mush, Skittery, Kid Blink, Snipeshooter, and Racetrack had ended up in the factory. Racetrack shouldn't have been there, but had taken Crutchy's place instead. When asked why, he would've tossed his head and said, " 'Cause, he wouldn't 'ave lasted a day in dat factry! I knew dat. I wasn't about ta take dat cushy job in da booth when Crutchy could 'ave it! Whaddya take me fer? A scabba?" The rest of the boys had ended up either remaining Newsies, or were forced to look for work else where, which happened to a greater amount of the boys.   
  
Now, you are wondering I'm sure, why the author has not listed a person who was very involved in the strike, in fact started the strike. Where is Jack Kelly? What happened to Jack Kelly? Did he die? Jack Kelly, did not go to the factory, or to the booth, or anywhere else. He did not die. He left New York all together.  
  
@--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------@  
  
He was weary, when last I saw him,  
But smiling still just as always.  
We laughed for hours, at favorite stories,  
Of the three of us in younger days.  
  
  
Time: Three years previous.  
  
Racetrack, Kid Blink, and Jack Kelly sat outside the paper factory smoking cigarettes, their hands stained black with ink, dirtying the white paper of the cigarette. It was cold, understandable because it was nearly December. They didn't talk, but sat still on the steps staring into the cloudy sky. Suddenly Jack threw down his cigarette and pounded on the stairs in apparent frustration, making the others jump at his outburst. "Geez Jack, you could give us some warnin' dat yer gonna go nuts!" Blink remarked cooly. "Sorry guys, I don't know whats da matta wit' me." Racetrack knodded knowingly.  
"Yeah, we could kinda tell, da way ya been goin' on da last couple a days." Jack shrugged, taking a offered cigarette from Blink. "I dunno Jack, it seems like sometin's bodderin' ya. Dats jest an' observation of course." Racetrack remarked as he pulled his thin jacket closer to his body. "I dunno, like I said. I jest got a feelin' dat if I don't do sometin' I'm gonna explode!" Jack said with a passion that the boys found humorous. Blink laughed. "Well don't do dat! We don't wanna pay fer da equipment ta clean ya up!" That roused laughs out of all three of the boys, but was quickly silenced as a painful cough convulsed Kid Blink's thin body. Jack patted the boy's back until the cough was silenced with a painful swallow.  
  
"Ya o.k. Blink? Dat was a pretty bad cough ya got dere. Maybe ya should see someone 'bout dat." Racetrack offered with a sigh, already knowing the boy's answer. "I don't need no docta! Its jest a stupid cough dats all! It is winta ya know. It ain't nothin' ta worry 'bout!" Jack placed his hand reassuringly on Kid Blink's back. "We won't make ya do sometin' ya don't wanna do Kid. But if it gets woise, den ya gots ta do it. Agreed?" Blink rolled his eye in annoyance at the fuss being made over him. "Fine, fine. Whateva. Geez its gettin' cold."   
  
Jack looked up at the sky, still with an agitated look spread upon his features. Blink noticed Jack's agitation and took another dreg of his cigarette. Then he began to laugh, causing both Racetrack and Jack to look at him curiously. "What's da matta wit' ya?" Racetrack asked. Kid Blink looked back into the sky and giggled. "Rememba dat one time durin' winta befoa da strike? When we went outside ta sell papes, an' Mush stepped outside an' said, Ah what a glorious day! an' den he stepped on the steps and he slipped on da ice an' fell flat on his bottom!" The three boys burst out laughing hysterically at the memory until Racetrack broke in, "Yeah, yeah! An' rememba when Spot tried ta get us ta go skatin' on the riva an' Skittery kept fallin' down an' he couldn't walk two steps widout fallin'!"   
  
"Yeah, an' den da Delancy's decided ta come an' chase us, an' Osca couldn't keep 'is balance any more dan Skits could an' dey was just run, plop! Run, plop, run plop, run, plop! In succesion!" Jack laughed. By this time, all three boys were rolling on the ground with laughter at their memories. One by one, each of the boys remembered old times, like when the strike started, going to Medda's and singing, not mentioning the end of the rally entirely. Then the laughter died down as they began to remember the present. There weren't very many happy memories since the strike. Hard times had come upon all of those who worked in the factory. Fear of bein laid off was always constant, and also the fear of losing an arm or leg.   
  
"Danny lost 'is finga teday." Racetrack remarked in the silence. Kid Blink patted Racetrack on the back. Ever since the first day they had come to the factory, Danny and Racetrack had bonded easily. It was a normal sound to all the boys to hear laughing coming from the third row in the factory as the two shared jokes and gossip. "Ya been ta see 'im Race?" Jack asked quietly. Racetrack shook his head. "Cain't bea ta go. I don't wanna see 'im like dat." Kid Blink threw his cigarette in the street and stomped on it, as if he was showing the machine what he'd like to do to it.   
  
"Well ya gots ta see 'im sometime Race. He'll feel bad if ya don't!" Kid Blink remarked matter-of-factly. "I know, I know." Blink interrupted Racetrack with another hacking cough. "We betta get ya's inside buddy." Jack remarked to his friend as he slowly stood up off of the steps and began to walk toward the same Lodging House he and the boys had lived in for years. Kid Blink began to follow with Racetrack's reasurring hand on his back. But suddenly, Blink turned around and looked at the sky. "Look, its snowin'!" Fat flakes peppered the boy's noses and Jack sneezed. Blink looked at him and laughed. "Oh dat was so fake Cowboy!" Jack grinned. "Whaddya gonna do 'bout it? Try and catch me? Last one dere is a scabba!" And Jack began to run toward the Lodging House with Blink and Racetrack hot on his heels behind him, Blink stopping occasionally while his now thin body wrenched out another cough.  
  
@--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------@  
  
  
Now its important,  
That you rejoin me,  
At the parting request,  
Of our companion.  
  
Dreams of glory, just beyond us,  
Sent me off chasing gold.  
And he kept trying to reunite us,  
But my pursuits had left me cold.  
  
  
A nightly snowfall had the whole Lodging house filled to the brim. Boys were sleeping on the floors and sharing beds with the littler children, and Kloppman was working as hard as possible, with a little help, to make everyone as comfortable as possible. Racetrack, Mush, and Jack were the lucky contributers. They helped Kloppman make beds, get more blankets, heat up soup from dinner, the works. Kid Blink tried to insist that he should help, but Jack insisted that he stay calm and in bed for a while. "Gotta keep up yer strength Blinky." Jack grinned as Kid Blink frowned at Jack's special nickname for him. " Ya know I hate dat name, Jackrabbit!" Blink said meaningfully, throwing in his special name for Jack, who in turn rolled his eyes and grinned.   
  
Jack soon sobered up though, as another whole group of cold boys trooped in, one so cold that one boy's panicked older brother feared that he had frostbite. After helping the boys get settled, he noticed the short figure of Racetrack standing in the corner near the stove. When he walked closer, he saw that he was shoving clothes into the oven. "What da heck ya doin'? 'Ave ya lost yer mind?" Jack protested. Racetrack turned around and rubbed his blue fingertips against his equally blue lips. "Gotta do it Jacky. I ain't boinin' 'em. I's warmin' 'em up. Its da only way. Aw, its cold!" Racetrack shivered, and rubbed his arms, which Jack only now noticed, were bare.   
  
"What da heck happened to yer coat Race?" Racetrack shivered and hugged himself. "Gave it ta some kid." Jack's eyes widened. "An' what about yer flannel shoit? Why ain't ya wearin' dat, 'stead of dat summa shoit?" "Gave it ta Crutchy." Jack's face softened at the sight of his friend, shivering and blue in the dead of winter. He remembered a time, when Racetrack would've rather died than give away anything of his. He grabbed his friend and hugged him, rubbing his arms and back, so that some feeling could come back to them. "Don't worry buddy. Its gonna be alright. We'll get trough dis. Don't ya worry. Don't ya worry." He murmured as his friend lay in his arms, gradually getting warmer with his touch. As Jack looked around him, one thought ran through his brain.   
  
I gotta get outta here.  
  
The next day, the boy whose brother feared he had frostbite, died. It had been much worse than frostbite. It had been pneumonia. He had died in his sleep and nothing could've been done for him. The doctor had explained all this to the boy's brother, now pale and grim sitting beside his brother's body. The boy refused to budge even after the body was taken out to the cemetary. The boy left later that afternoon, refusing help from the rest of the boys. They never saw the boy again, but Racetrack read later that week in the paper that a boy of about ten years old was found frozen in a snowbank in Central Park. Hearts were sad and grim that night.  
  
More and more tradgedies began to occur about the Lodging House, making Jack crazy with the familiar yearning of leaving. But he tried to convince himself as his friends had tried to convince him, that he was needed here, this was his family. But it refused to sink into Jack's head. Santa Fe began to arise in his mind as he dug out his old Western Jim comic books from beneath his mattress. Flipping through the pages of pink and orange sunsets and cowboys and ranches, Jack's hunger grew more and more immense. He began looking for ways to get out secretly. Tickets on a train were about five dollars a piece, and there was food on the train, but it cost money. His secret bank under his mattress would be put to good use.  
  
So occupied was he that when he walked into the Lodging House and saw Blink and Racetrack sitting on a cot, Blink's hand resting on the other boy's bent figure, Jack was surprised. "Hey fellas! What's up?" Blink looked up at Jack and the sorrow in his eye was indescribable. "Race?" At the mentioning of his name, Racetrack obligingly lifted his head and looked at Jack, who in turn gasped. Racetrack's face was as pale as death and there was something resting on his cheek that was not something normally found on his usually happy-go-lucky face. It was a single tear dropping out of his dark brown eyes. "Race? Whats da matta?"  
  
"Jack. Danny died teday. Dis mawnin'. Jest as I walked in da doa. De Doc said dat I couldn't see 'im. I asked why. An' he said dat he was dead. I didn't believe it an' I ran inta da room, an', an' dere he was. Layin' on da bed all white an' pale an' his eyes all closed, an'," Racetrack dropped his head again in order that his friend not see the second tear dripping down his face. "I, didn't even get a chance ta see 'im an' say 'ow sorry I was 'bout his finga!" Racetrack mumbled. "I didn't get a chance, ta say goodbye." The last words were barely audible they were so soft. "Aw, Race. Its o.k." Jack sat down beside his friend and pulled him close in a bear hug.   
  
Just then, someone in front of them coughed. The three boys looked up and saw Mush standing in front of them. The boy was obviously troubled and his voice trembled as he spoke. "Well, um, one of da kids from Brooklyn came 'ere teday. Um, he tol' me dat Spot, well Spot. He ain't doin' so good. He got dat 'ting dat everyones got. Dat 'monia thing. He ain't 'spected ta pull trough." Jack's brown eyes widened and he stood up quickly and grasped Mush's shoulders. "He ain't gonna die is he Mush?" Mush looked up in Jack's now frightened face. "Dere 'spectin' 'im to Jack." Jack's hands dropped off of Mush's shoulders and he walked out the door into the falling snow. "Jack, Jack wait! Don't go out alone in dis! Jack!" Blink yelled as he ran to the door.  
  
Jack's feet were practically frozen by the time he reached Brooklyn. He had to go to Spot. I gotta get ta Spot. He ain't neva let me down when I needed him, so I ain't gonna let him down. Ol' Spot cain't be dyin'. He's too young. He' s only eighteen fer cryin' out loud! Hang on ol' Spots. Jack-be-nimble is comin'! Jack's brain screamed as he entered the threshold of the Brooklyn Newsies Lodging House and ran straight into the owner of the establishment, Mrs. O'Sullivan. When her husband and young boy had died ten years ago, she had taken over this formerly abandoned building and transformed it into a place for the boys of Brooklyn to live.   
  
She was carrying a bowl of soup, some coffee and medicine all on a large tray. A worried look spread on her features as the snow covered Jack Kelly entered, but they softened as he shook the snow off. " Jack Kelly! What'll you be doin' here? There's lotsa boys sick here now! Don't ya know that?" She said hurridly in her native Irish accent. Jack smiled. "Yeah I know dat. Dat fer Spot?" Mrs. O'Sullivan's smile vanished in an instant. "Yes it is fer the poor soul. An' by the Blarney Stone don't ya be thinkin' that you'll wheedle me inta lettin' ya give the soup and medicine to that boy, mark me words Jack Kelly!"   
  
Jack grinned, then resorted to pleading. "Please Mrs. Sully, I gotta see Spot. Honestly and truely I gotta. I don't want him ta die widout me seein' him! He's one of da best friend I got, even if he is to big fer his britches sometimes!" Mrs. O'Sullivan smiled a small, wistful smile as she handed over the tray to Jack. "Mind ya don't be wearin' him out though me lad. Oh that poor boy." She then turned on her heel and put her apron to her face as she walked to the kitchen. Jack smiled at the lady and then headed upstairs to Spot's room. The door was closed and there was a light shining underneath.   
  
Jack slowly opened the door and turned around to face Spot. The sight took his breath away. Spot was emaciated, his face pale and haggard. He was thinner than usual and his grey blue eyes stared wide open at the ceiling. Jack had never seen Spot like this before. He was totally different than the headstrong fifteen year old that had lended a hand to the Manhattan Newsies in the strike three years ago. That Spot had rosy cheeks and a headstrong air about him, not this extremely sick Spot. "Spot?" Spot's head slowly turned toward the door at Jack, his wan face giving Jack shivers down his spine. "Jacky boy? Is dat you? I was 'spectin' ol' Sully."  
  
Jack smiled wanly. "Well she relinquished duty ta me Spot. How ya doin'?" Spot attempted a sickly smile and coughed as Jack sat down on a chair next to his bed. "Not terrible, not great eitha. Cain't get outta bed, cain't deliva papes, cain't play no cawds. Basicly, cain't have no fun!" Jack grinned. "Well do ya really feel up to it Spot?" Spot turned his head back toward the ceiling. "No, but a guy's gotta keep up 'is reputation ya know, even when he's sick. I gotta," He was interupted by a painful cough that shook his whole thin frame. "Rest easy Spot. Its o.k. I brought grub fer ya." Spot shook his head slowly. "Don't want it." Jack in turn shook his head at Spot and dipped the spoon in the bowl.   
  
"Now ya gotta Spot. Here." Spot sat up a little and slurped the soup down as Jack helped him. "Now how was dat?" Spot grimaced. "Ain't nothin' wrong wit' Sully's cookin'. It jest don't agree wit' me. Don't make me eat anymore Cowboy!" Any other person might have giggled at Spot, but Jack Kelly did not. What he heard was not the cry of the infamous Spot Conlon of Brooklyn. He heard the cry of a child, willing to give up, forever. "Ya gotta hang in dere Spot. Ya gotta keep up yer strength!" Spot shook his head again and looked at Jack with a forlorn look. "Naw Cowboy. I've played me last cawd. I know me time is up. I cain't keep it up no more." Jack's mouth dropped open as Spot sighed and pulled insistantly at a string around his neck. "Here Cowboy. I want ya's ta have dis. Don't give me no protestin' ya undastand!" He said with a bit of his former dominating Spot Conlon look. He handed Jack his string and on the end of it was his key. His key to Brooklyn. "I want ya's ta have me cane too. Give to da next Brooklyn leadah. Make note of dat, 'kay? Dats important."   
  
Jack Kelly's eyes began to fill with tears as he realized what his friend was doing. It was Spot's way of making his own will, by giving out the things he cared about most. Spot's breathing began to be more labored as the seconds ticked by. He then looked over at Jack, his eyes trustingly on his friend's. "Ya always been a good guy Jack. You was one of me best friends an' one of dat best Newsies I eva known. An' one of da best teacha's."Spot grinned as his friend sat in tearful silence. "Good ol' Jack, neva givin' up on nobody. Even dough ya 'trayed us dat one time, but dats fergotten an' dat Jack Kelly's gone! You neva would leave a fella would ya Jack?"   
  
Another cough racked Spot's body and he motioned for Jack to move closer to him. "Jack? Please don't leave me Newsies. Give 'em a leadah. Course no leadah's as good as me, but, try an' find a substitute will ya? Jack, don't leave 'em. Dey's all I had. Don't leave me Jack. You were always one o'me best friends." Spot's grey blue eyes focused on Jack for what seemed like an eternity, then they dropped and his eyelids closed. Jack sat in the stillness looking at his friend. He felt his wrist. He stood up and patted his friend's still hand. Then he walked toward the door, but stopped and turned around. The cane lay against the wall, as if it was waiting for its owner's use. Jack gave a low cry and grabbed the cane and rushed out the door.   
  
"Well how is he Jack? Is he doin' alright?" Mrs. O'Sullivan met Jack on the stairs as he came running down them. At the look in the boy's eyes, the woman paled and ran up the stairs two at a time. Jack in turn ran downstairs into the lobby of the Lodging house where he collapsed in a chair. A small tugging on his shirt made him look up after a time. It was a small boy about six whom Spot had christened Dimes, due to the boy's interest in the dimes that Spot kept in his pocket for his wants and needs. The boy's solemn blue eyes looked into Jack's brown eyes with such a trusting look, that Spot again resurrected into Jack's vision.   
  
"How's Spot doin' Jack? Is he gonna be o.k.?" Jack looked down at the boy and gulped. "Spot's gone to anotha place Dimes. A place whea he kin shoot as many bottles wit' his slingshot as he wants. A place where he don't hafta sell papes anymore an' not stawve. A great place. But he ain't comin' back Dimes." Dimes' eyes widened. "Whaddya mean he ain't comin' back. Sure dat sounds like a nice place an' all, but he's got us ta look afta. Right? Jack?" Dimes looked at Jack with a growing look of horror as he gradually began to realize what Jack meant. "Did Spot, die?  
  
Jack's hands covered his eyes and he slumped further into the chair as he heard Mrs. O'Sullivan slowly walking down the stairs. All the boys who had gathered in the lobby turned and watched the lady. She was white and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. The reactions of the boys were numerous. The younger ones merely stared, and the ones who had known Spot for a long time took off their hats as tears slipped down their cheeks. Jack suddenly sat up and searched the crowd for one boy. He saw him and walked up to the red headed youth. "Pat, I tink dat Spot would want ya ta have dis." Jack quickly shoved Spot's cane into the boy's best friend and right hand man.The boy focused in on the cane and clutched it to his chest. Then he straightened, spit into his hand and held it out to Jack. Jack clutched it and said softly, "Congratulations, leadah of Brooklyn." Pat straightened up even farther and smiled gratefully at Jack, before he turned to his boys and began comforting them. Jack on the other hand slipped out the door, before he could be detected.  
  
Jack ran all the way back to the Lodging House in the still falling snow. When he reached it he slunk upstairs quietly and began to gather his things into a cloth bag. When he had gathered everthing, Jack took one last glance around the room at all the bunks and their occupants. Then when he noticed Racetrack sleeping soundly in the bunk next to his, Jack took out a piece of paper and wrote a small note to his best friend and laid it in his outstretched hand. Then he quietly slunk back down the stairs. But as he reached the door, something moved behind Jack, frightening him and causing him to turn around quickly.  
  
Blink sat in one of the chairs in the darkness, staring at Jack. Jack breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him. "Geez ya scared me Blink! Whatcha doin' up dis late?" Blink sat still in the chair and stared quietly at Jack. "Couldn't sleep. What are you doin' up dis late? Looks like yer goin' on a trip." Jack looked down to his packed bag and his warm clothes, then looked back at Blink and shrugged not saying anything. Blink slowly stood up and walked over to Jack. "I'll tell ya what it looks like yer doin'. Yer leavin' us." Jack sighed heavily. "Yeah, whats it to ya Blink? Nobody cares." Blink scoffed and his face began to get red. "Dats what you think Jack! Let me tell you sometin'. If you leave, everything will change. Da boys depend on ya! Ya cain't let 'em down like dis! What'll Race think?"   
  
Jack stared angrily into Kid Blink's frustrated face. "Ya know, I don't much care what Race tinks! Its my life o.k.! Its my money I'm spendin'. I've got a real opportunity here Blink! A place where I can actually get some money! A guy is movin' down ta Santa Fe ta stawt a ranch an' he needs helpers. I already talked to 'im an' he's willin' ta have me go down dere an' meet him! What's so bad 'bout dat? Huh?" Kid Blink then began to speak in harsh whispers to Jack, each of his words edged with daggers. "Jack, don't do dis. I hoid 'bout Spot. Do ya tink dat Spot would want ya ta leave us? Huh?"  
  
Jack then totally lost his temper with Blink and shoved him back into a chair. "You don't rule my life! Nobody does! I'm gonna take dis chance 'cause its da last chance I'm gonna get! I don't need you, or Race, or Mush or any of you boys! I don't! So leave me be!" Just then Jack happened to look on the stairs, and saw Racetrack standing there, hands clenched tightly together, his face a mask of pain and anger. Jack bolted and ran out the door, attempting to shut out his friend's hurt and angry face, and failing. "I don't need dem!" Jack panted as he ran. Jack reached the train station without further incident, boarded the train, and left his former home, for his new one.  
  
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Now its important,   
That you rejoin me,  
At the parting request,  
Of our companion.  
  
And so he brings us,  
Back together.  
But he had to go,  
To such extremes.  
  
Time: Six years later.  
  
A tall young man with fine clothes decended the train platform as he looked at the city. He breathed deeply as a breeze flowed by. "Still smells the same. A sorta mixture of smoke an' real air." He collected his baggage and began to walk to the depot so that he could have them transfered to his hotel. After he was finished, he stuck his hands in his pockets and began to walk about. He bought an apple from a street vendor and with a deep breath, began to walk towards the suburbs of Manhattan. Things had changed. Not all the buildings that were on the street six years ago, were still standing. Businesses had been bought out, some had been deserted.   
  
As he entered Manhattan, the man looked up at the golden tower of "The World" newspaper agency. He shook his head as he remembered old days, then started as he heard a voice yelling in the distance. "Family dies in da riva! No one saved! Individual caught on train tracks! Almost killed but runs off!" Jack Kelly made his way toward the small boy selling papers. "Hey kid. I'll buy a papah." The boy grinned as Jack handed over a penny to the boy as he searched for the article. The only closest thing was, "Dog's foot is trapped between railroad ties on abandoned road. Is freed not long after." Jack looked down at the boy, who had been watching him. "Dis ain't da real article kid." Jack said as he stooped down to reach the boy's height.   
  
The boy smiled and shrugged. "Well, it ain't lyin'. Jest improvin' da truth a little. Least dats what Blink says." Jack started looked at the small boy uneasily. "Blink tol' ya dat huh? Who's Blink?" The boy suddenly looked slyly at Jack and sidled up to him. "Hey, uh, Mista. I'll tell ya, if ya give me a quatah." Jack eyed the small boy who suddenly guessed that his ploy wouldn't work. "Or I could roll ya for it, double or nothin'?" Jack surprised the boy by laughing heartily out loud. "I'll give ya a quatah. Here. Now who's Blink?" The boy grabbed the quarter and began to flip it on his thumb as he spoke. "Well, Blink, actually his name is Kid Blink, sorta runs the Newsies. Sorta. He an' Race kinda share a little. Race is Racetrack."   
  
"Where did ya get dat thing? Ya know that it ain't lyin' but improvin' the truth a little?" Jack asked curiously. "Well Racetrack tol' me. Said someone he knew once tol' him dat. But when I asked him who, he got all angry an' wouldn't tell me who. Kinda strange fer Race, but whatever. Do ya wanna find Blink er somethin'?" The boy asked Jack, eyeing the sudden shadow that had fallen across Jack's face. "Hello? Anyone dere?" The boy waved his scrawny hand in front of Jack's face, bringing him back to reality. Jack smiled. "Yeah, I'd like ta find dis Blink. Whats yer name kid?" The boy smiled. "Its Cowboy. Race called me dat foist ting when I came. Said I looked like I would make a good Cowboy." Jack's face became wistful as the boy spoke, and he sighed. Then he took the boy's small hand in his and the two began to walk, the younger leading the elder.  
  
When they arrived at the Lodging House, Jack's mouth was wide open at the side. The sign that read, NEWSBOY'S LODGING HOUSE, was dilapidated and chipped. The front stairs were now a few rotten boards on their foundation. The door window was cracked and holes showed through. Jack followed the boy up the stairs and he stepped inside. The inside of the house was dirty and the wall paper coming off in strips. The front desk was not much better. "Where's Kloppman kid?" The boy looked up at Jack curiously. "Kloppman? He ain't been here for a long time. He died about three years ago. We boys try to keep the place up, but we ain't havin' much success. A landlord comes by and collects rent every week. C'mon upstairs."   
  
Jack stared at the surroundings in shock as he followed the boy up the stairs. Jack breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the old bedroom. It was virtually the same. Everything was in its place. It hadn't changed, it was just slightly older. "Where is everybody kid?" Jack asked Cowboy as he placed his quarter in a cup by what appeared to be his bed. "They're all at da factry. Want me ta show ya da way?" Jack nodded and again took the boy's hand as they headed down the stairs and outside.  
  
The factory had not changed at all either. The tall building still smoked out of its chimney and boys loitered about the place. Suddenly, the break whistle blew, piercing the afternoon with a shrill blast. Jack gripped Cowboy's hand tighter as they ventured into the building. Suddenly a familiar figure shuffled into Jack's view. A brown eyepatch still covered one eye. "Blink? Kid Blink?" The boy started as Jack called his name. Blink made his way over to Jack, observing him as he came closer. "Yeah kid? Whatcha want wit' Kid Blink?"   
  
Jack swallowed hard as he spoke again. "Blink, its me. Jack Kelly." Blink started and stared at Jack as if he had never seen him before in his life. After a while, recognition filled his blue eye. "Jack Kelly. I neva woulda 'spected ya. What brings ya back here? Did ya get me letta?" Jack's face filled with confusion. "Letta? I didn't get no letta. I jest came back fer ol' times sake. I didn't get a letta Blink." Blink stared at Jack in bewilderment, then he shrugged and smiled. "Well I reckon I had betta show ya da boys, huh? C'mon." Blink put his hand on Jack's back and the two began to walk off, Cowboy following along at a safe distance.   
  
As they walked along the passages of the old factory, Jack began to look for familiar faces. Any face that seemed familiar. Finally, he found one. A young teenager sat in a chair tying papers up with twine with a slightly whimsical look on his young face. "Snipeshoota? Dat you? Its Kelly, Jack Kelly. Ya 'memba?" The boy looked up toward Jack's face with a strange look in his eyes. "Jack? Is it really you Jack? Ya sound like yer changed, but not 'zactly. Keep tawkin' so I knows where ya are." Just then, Jack noticed that the boy's brown eyes were covered with what looked like a white film, covering practically all the color on them. "I'm right here Shoota." Jack croaked, then he turned to Blink, who shrugged sadly. "Jack it is you! I know dat hand anywhere! What ya doin' back in dis neck o'da woods?"   
  
Jack couldn't speak until Blink nudged him with his elbow. "I um, came back fer a visit." Snipeshooter smiled. "Its about time Cowboy!" "Snipeshoota!" A sudden voice cryed out from the other side of the room and Jack and Snipeshooter turned to see its speaker. "Aw Skits, I wasn't doin' nothin'. Jest talkin' ta Cowboy." Skittery suddenly turned to Jack and stared at him unbelievingly. "Sit down Snipe an' do yer stuff. Its past break." As Snipeshooter obligingly sat down, Skittery edged closer to Jack. "Is dat you Cowboy?" Skittery whispered, like a child who has recieved a truely wonderful gift that he didn't expect.   
  
"Yeah, its me Skittery. What happened ta Snipe?" Skittery patted Jack's arm then his gazed flitted across Snipeshooter's form. "He got hit, by a carrige. Hit 'is head, pretty bad. Da doc said dat he damaged an optical noive or sometin'. He won't eva be able ta see again." Jack turned away from his friend. One by one he met his friends each changed in some way. Mush had grown even more muscular and tough, but on the inside he was still as soft as he used to be. Boots had grown tall and gangly, and still sold papers daily, but worked nightly in the factory. Crutchy was not there, his leg having gotten so bad that he had to move to another job, where cripples could work with ease.   
  
Jack was happy that he had found his friends, but he knew that someone was missing. "Hey Racetrack! C'mere! Got someone I want ya ta see!" Blink called out, surprising Jack. But he was to be even more surprised at what approached. It was still Racetrack on the outside, but on the inside it was obvious, he had hardened quite a bit in the last couple of years. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Jack. Then he sidled up to Jack slowly. "Hey Race."Jack gulped as the boy's brown eyes bored into him. "Hey, Cowboy."   
  
The punch went directly into his jaw and knocked Jack over onto the floor. Yells erupted in the little circle that had gathered around Jack. "What da heck you doin' Race? Its Jack!" Blink insisted. "Yeah dats a bum alright. Don't know anybody named Jack though. I tought dat Jack died. Left, ran away." Racetrack glared at Jack lying on the floor, scowled and walked off and out of the factory, slamming the door behind him. Blink and the others helped Jack up with queries about him. "I'm o.k. guys, jest a little dazed dats all." Jack insisted. "Sorry Cowboy. I shouldn't have called him ova here." Blink apologized. "Its o.k. Now I know who to avoid." Jack said, staring at the door Racetrack had exited.  
  
Jack and the rest of the boys went to Charlie's, the resteraunt that had taken over Tibby's after Jack had left. Jack found that it was just as good as Tibby's, only a little more expensive. They boys caught up with each other and what had happened over the last couple of years. Blink occasionally breaking up a conversation with a huge cough. "Blink, ya still got dat cold?" Blink nodded, wiping his mouth with the corner of his sleeve. "Yeah, nothin' much." Jack looked at Blink, unbeliveingly. "Nothin' much. Sua sounds like sometin'." "It ain't nothin' alright Jack!" Blink yelled, causing silence to control the restaurant. "Sorry Jack." That was the last word on the subject for the evening.  
  
After a while, the boys began to loiter off into the night. Finally, Blink and Jack were the only ones left in the diner. "Hey Jack, ya still smoke?" Blink questioned. Jack nodded as Blink stood up and motioned toward the door. Then the two sat outside and smoked for a while, before Blink spoke. "Sorry 'bout Race's outboist. He cain't really help it." Jack nodded but refused to look at Kid Blink. "He heaid what ya said dat night, an' well he's changed from da guy he used ta be. He ain't as strong neitha. He got dat 'monia ting aftawoids an' it 'fected him." Jack turned to Blink. "I undastand 'bout all dat. But will he eva fergive me? I realized a long time ago dat what I did was wrong, 'specially by not tellin' ya's."   
  
Blink nodded knowingly and breathed out a puff of smoke. "He probably knows dat too Cowboy. He's jest too proud. Ya know how he is. Afta ya left, he jest gave up on ya, 'cause ya left widout tellin' him. Den ya said ya didn't need 'im right while he was standin' dere." "But," Jack started insistantly, but was cut off short by Blink. "Look Jack. No more excuses. Jest talk it out wid 'im. Sort it all out. It would be a pity if'n ya threw away yer friendship afta all ya's been trough." Blink then stood up and wiped ashes off of his pants and walked off, leaving Jack on the curb by himself.  
  
@--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------@  
  
And in your eyes now,  
As real as ever,  
Is the love I traded for my dreams.  
  
Now its important,  
That you've rejoined me,  
At the parting request,  
Of our companion.  
  
  
Racetrack Higgins sat outside the Lodging House with his head in his hands. He was furious at himself because he had been sort of happy when he saw Jack in the factory. Ever since that day that Jack had left, he had hated Jack's guts, so to speak. It was like treason to the hate that he had built up the last six years to be "glad" to see the betrayer. He hadn't believed that Jack would leave until he heard it from his own lips, and he had gotten that. Racetrack had known that Jack wanted to leave again. It had been obvious. A few days before he had left, Racetrack had found a cut out newspaper article in the want ads that requested "able young men, willing to help start a ranch in New Mexico." It was just up Jack's alley to want to go there.  
  
But Racetrack couldn't believe that he would leave his friends. If he did, Racetrack assumed it would be like the last time and he would come back before he was two miles away. But when he had heard Jack's outburst at Blink, telling Blink that he didn't need Racetrack, it was the last straw.   
  
I'd been patient. I'd been undastandin'. I tried ta undastand Jack's sitiation but it neva woiked. Den when he said he didn't need me, well.   
  
Racetrack knew that it was useless to argue with his feelings about this. He'd been through this with himself time and time again. He couldn't be friends with Jack Kelly again. That is unless he heard it from Jack's own lips that he was sorry. "But dat'll neva happen in dis century." Racetrack mumbled  
  
"What'll neva happen? Racetrack looked up surprised, but then dropped his head again as he saw the person standing on the sidewalk. "Mind if I sit down hea?" Jack asked, uneasy at Racetrack's silence. Racetrack shrugged and scowled. "Who cares. Not me. Ya always have a plan ta do what ya want. Rememba ya don't need me." Jack sat down and gulped. Racetrack was angry. How did I handle him when he was angry befoa? Jack thought. Then he remembered. "Hey Race, what happened when da cow crossed da road?" Racetrack's head didn't change position as he mumbled. "What?"   
  
Jack encouraged by him at least answering, blurted. "Because he wanted to get mooried!" Jack laughed uneasily. Racetrack looked up, and a small smile flitted across his face. "Dat was terrible." Jack laughed. "I know. I couldn't tink of anythin' else. Race, I gotta tell ya sometin'." Racetrack's head lifted and turned to Jack's nervous face. "I'm sorry Race. Fer what I said, an' all dat stuff. Ya know da foist ting I realized when I went ta New Mexico, was dat I had no friends. No one ta share experiences wit', or tell jokes to, or ask fer advice, or even jest ta help me. Dat hoit me. An' den I realized dat, I did need ya Race. But I couldn't let ya know yet. I wasn't ready an' you weren't I'm sua. I wanna be yer friend again Race. Now I wouldn't blame ya if'n ya neva fergave me. I wouldn't blame ya neitha. Its all up ta you Race."  
  
Racetrack stared into Jack's desperate face with a hard expression. "What makes ya tink I won't fergive ya?" Jack was startled and Racetrack could tell by his expression. "Jack, I tol' meself dat I wouldn't be yer friend eva again. But I leained da same lesson you did, only backwards. I couldn't hate ya and want ta see ya again at da same time. I'm stubborn, but stubborn enough ta refuse me friend." Jack's face became bright as Racetrack spoke. Racetrack's also in embarrassed happiness as Jack reached for him and the two embraced. Then they stood up and began walking toward the Lodging House, Jack's arm on the smaller boy's back.  
  
"Heya Blink? Blink, where are ya's? Blink?" Jack called softly so as not to wake the other members of the Lodging House. He had looked around the whole house, but a noise from the kitchen made him realize that he hadn't looked there, not expecting his friend to hide in a kitchen. "Well dere's a foist time fer everythin'." Jack sighed as he pushed open the kitchen door. Blink stood in the center coughing, the sound getting louder and louder by the minute. Jack rushed over and pounded his friend's back as he coughed into his hands. When he finally stopped, Blink looked into his hands and moaned.   
  
Jack stared in horror at what lay in the boy's hands. It was blood. Lots of blood. Blink's quivering lower lip and the inside of his mouth was red with it. "Blink, what is dis?" Blink walked over to the water pump as if he hadn't heard him and washed his hands clean of the blood. Then he straightened and spoke as if to no one in particular. "Its been goin' on fer a while now Jack. Don't know what it is. I talked to some docta, fooled 'im tellin' 'im dat a boy I knew was coughin' up blood. Da docta got real pale an' tol' me dat if'n I eva saw 'im, I was ta send 'im to 'im 'mediatelly, 'cause it was some thing he called tuberculosis. It kills people."   
  
Jack walked over to Blink and put his arm on his shoulder. "Blink, ya gotta do sometin'! Are ya jest gonna let yerself die like dat? I mean, ya cain't! Not afta ya got me an' Race bein' friends again! We need ya's Blink!" Blink laughed softly and turned around to face his friend. His one eye was glazed over and his lip quivered as he spoke. "Aw Jack, everybody dies eventually. I knew I would soona or lata. I knew dat if it was da last ting I did, I had ta get you an' Race back bein' friends, or else ya wouldn't be able ta live wit' yerselves fereva an' eva. I couldn't let dat happen. Ya's both got yer whole lives ahead of ya's. You'll probably get married, have a few kids, get a betta business an' live happily. But not me. Don't get me wrong Cowboy, I wanna do dose tings, but if I'm not meant to, I'm not meant to an' dats da way it is ya know? Gettin' you guys back tagetha was like me mission. An' dat missions ova wit', an' me job's done. I guess dat its time fer me ta go."   
  
Jack shook his head slowly, refusing to believe the words coming out of his friend's mouth. Blink suddenly smiled as he looked at Jack, tears falling down his cheeks. "An' as far as leavin' ya's go's. Didn't ya say da same ting six years ago? Ya don't rule my life, an I don't need ya an' all dat stuff. Well its my toin. I ain't afraid of dyin' Cowboy." A wistful smile flitted across Blink's face. "I jest wish dat I could be alive ta see you all grow up an' see what ya become. But tink of it dis way, I get front row seats ta watch ya Cowboy! Best seats in da house! I betta get goin'. You betta too. Probably gonna have a rough day temorra." Blink shuffled over to Jack, who held his friend in a tight embrace for a long time before he let go. "So long Cowboy." Blink whispered as he trudged up the stairs toward his bunk, leaving Jack standing in the kitchen, all alone.  
  
@--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------@  
  
And its important,  
That you forgive me,   
At the parting request,   
Of our companion.  
  
  
Blink was right. Jack did have a rough day. That morning Jack woke up in a cold sweat out of his sleep, startled by his dream he had had. He had dreamed that Blink had come over to him and had given him something, then had trudged back to his bed and collapsed. Jack sat up and rubbed his head, and as he touched it a papery substance rubbed across his face. It was a letter. A goodbye letter to Jack and all of the Newsies from Blink. Jack threw the letter to the ground and jumped down from atop his bed onto the floor and dashed over to Kid Blink's bed.   
  
Blink was lying on his bed, a small smile that everyone knew so well stretched across his face, good eye closed as if in sleep. Jack felt the boy's pulse, whose beat was non-existent, and slumped to the floor. When the doctor came by from the funeral services was told how long they guessed Blink had had the disease, the doctor had shaken his head and had told the boys that it was too late for him anyway. He should've come to him sooner. The boys managed to pool some money together to buy a small plot of land for Blink's gravesite. Nothing big, just nice and small, the way Blink would've wanted it.  
  
After the funeral was over, the boys hung around paying their respects in some small way. Mush sat down a wooden toy Blink had given him when they were children. Crutchy set down a miniture crutch carved especially for him by crutchy, so that "he wouldn't eva ferget his pal Crutchy." Racetrack pulled out of his pocket, a metal horse that he had bought at the races a long time ago and set it down on the newly turned earth with tenderness. Jack set down his letter to Blink and his Cowboy hat. Not his black hat, but his leather one that he had bought with his own money in Santa Fe. He knew that it would be stolen in a day or two along with the other presents, but he didn't care. At least he knew that he had given something back to Blink, in return for his friendship.  
  
The boys finally trudged home dismally, kicking stones and cans along the way. Snipeshooter suddenly said out of the blue, "I wish dat Blink was here. Its awfully gloomy. An' da sky is gray, I know 'cause I don't feel da sun. Awfully mean of Gawd not ta have sun on da day dat Blink joins 'im." As if by magic, the clouds opened and the sun burst through like it like a stain glass window. "Well whaddya know about dat." Jack murmured as he gazed into the clouds.   
  
"Well, I dunno 'bout you guys but it looks ta me like dat Blink's final farewell, an' little sign dat he's gonna be o.k." Racetrack commented. All the boys agreed with him as they gazed at the sky as if they had never seen the sun in their lives. But all the boys agreed that it was the most beautiful sun burst that they had ever seen, and that it had been designed especially for them. All the boys lived their own lives and went their own ways. Some died and some lived, but all of them extended to all the courage and strenghth of boys.  
  
  



End file.
